


Sway

by Starbuck0322



Series: Back to You [6]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Gillian, Episode: s03e05 The Canary's Song, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbuck0322/pseuds/Starbuck0322
Summary: "What does a girl have to do to get a kiss around here?"
Relationships: Gillian Foster/Cal Lightman
Series: Back to You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724767
Kudos: 98





	Sway

_"I can not wait until tomorrow."_

_"Why? What's tomorrow?"_

_"I get better looking every day."_

* * *

Her words sank heavy, ran thick and sticky like honey.

He wasn't sure what his face was reading. He focused on her features alone as he leaned into her. He placed himself in line with her body.

Her eyes fell to his lips, hips swayed slightly. She fought against her drunkenness and the heaviness of her limbs. Her weight shifted to the balls of her feet.

They were close enough to feel each others breath, warm on their skin. The liquor took hold of her as she leaned in closer, inches from his lips.

"What does a girl have to do to get a kiss around here?"

He breathed her in, read the seduction which traced her features."You're doing just fine, love."

She smiled, lips parted. "And yet you're not moving."

"You're smashed, Gill."

She took a wobbly step backward. "Hey now," she waved a pump in the air. "I'm a respectable amount of happy." She pushed the point of her shoe into his chest. "But I'm certainly not smashed." She took another step backward shifting her weight and stumbled.

He reached out and caught her by the waist. "You were saying."

Her eyes rolled upward to meet him. She brought a hand to her hair, drew a strand of light brown hair from across her forehead. "Respectable." Balanced in his arms, she reached up to touch his lips. "These," she said brushing his lips with her thumb. "On mine. Now."

He leaned into her, could smell the liquor on her, felt the tension growing from his toes. "Yes ma'am."

She was warm, wet and inviting. She tasted sweet from his expensive gift. Its aroma sat lightly on her tongue which danced seductively around his mouth. With each new movement, each new area explored, she let out a small hungry moan from her throat, which caused his stomach to tighten, his hands to pull her more tightly toward him.

He fought for breath, fought to pull against her, but her passion was growing heavy and intense, and she was now rocking against him.

"Gill," he managed through their kiss. Her tongue wrapped around his, leaving him vacant of any other thought but for the woman in front of him.

She moaned again, toyed with his hair. She removed his hard hat vigorously causing it to crash to the floor.

The noise startled them, and it was enough distraction for him to pull back from her, to steady her in front of him.

She turned back to him seductively, was shocked when he placed a finger to her lips to silence her. She smiled against his touch and lifted her head to take his finger in her mouth, suckling.

"Dear Lord," Cal said removing his finger from the warmth of her mouth. "That's dangerous, that's what that is."

She giggled and fell forward into his arms. She pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck and sighed loudly.

"Dance with me," she said as the music flipped to the next track. Gillian wrapped her arms around his waist, tucked her thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. "Sway with me," she cooed as Sinatra's soulful croon filled the space around them once more.

****

Gillian Foster's coat and purse in one hand, his car keys in the other, Cal Lightman turned toward his office, and stopped short in the doorway.

His sights fell quickly to Gillian Foster, asleep on his couch. His attention traveled to his empty bottle of 50 year old malt whiskey which was on display at the edge of his coffee table; a treasure of sorts, signalling her victory over him this evening.

He smiled as he approached the couch, looked down lovingly at his Gillian, his little pack rat.

He had left her alone for a few minutes and it had been long enough for her to take up residence on his leather couch.

She lay on her side, pillow beneath her head, arm supporting her. Her other hand hung freely over the side of the couch.

"Foster," he called to her softly.

She was quiet; her breathing kept time with the slow rise and fall of her chest.

"Gillian, time to go."

Nothing.

He reached forward, felt her shoulder, let his palm slide flat across her back. "Gill," he whispered.

Again, nothing.

Cal sighed and turned, placing her coat and purse on a nearby chair. He took hold of his heavy throw, unfolded it and draped it over her. She did not move; her eyes did not flutter. She was peaceful, serene, and he took a moment to read her face.

No crease, not a single line touched her features, and he wondered how long it had been since he had last seen her in this pleasant state of calm.

His hand reached forward, found the knob on his table lamp and turned. The room entered into a soft darkness; the only light entered his office through the open door.

He treaded lightly across the floor to his desk, opened a locked drawer and removed a half-full bottle of scotch. He poured himself a small glass, drank the liquid quickly and returned the bottle to its drawer.

His sights traveled back to his friend, back to her small frame.

Seconds ticked by slowly as he pondered his next move.

He opened his drawer again, removed the bottle of scotch and poured himself another glass. Relocking the bottle within the drawer for a second time, he carried the glass to stand in front of her.

If she dreamt, she showed no signs.

He grabbed a nearby pillow and took up residence on the floor beside the couch. He finished his drink, watched as her fingers twitched, heard as she cooed softly.

He smiled to himself and lay down, back flat on the floor.

He woke to the light brushing of fingertips across his chest. He opened his eyes slowly and saw Gillian Foster looking down at him from above; a smile spread from ear to ear.

"What are you doing on the floor?" she asked placing her palm flat against his chest.

Cal sat up suddenly, moved within inches of her face. "I..." he paused inhaling slowly, "...was sleeping."

Gillian smiled; her eyes fell to his lips. "Did you tuck me in, Cal?"

"I did." He cocked his head, traced her face with his eyes. "I was supposed to be taking you home. It looks like you were sidetracked."

She released a quick breath. "You know there's room up here."

"Up there?"

"With me."

"With you?"

Gillian giggled and cocked her head toward him. "With me."

"Are you sure that's a wise decision, Dr. Foster?"

"You scared, Dr. Lightman?"

"Scared?" He smiled leaning further toward her. His warm breath touched her face. "What? Scared of you?"

Gillian smiled and lifted herself on her elbow. She patted the place behind her. "Come on."

In one bound, Cal leapt from the floor and tucked himself in behind her. They fought for positioning, fought for control over the blankets and as she turned toward him, he settled, unsure of where to place his hands in their restricted setting.

"I won't bite, Cal."

She turned her hips toward him, fitting perfectly in line with his body.

"I might."

She smiled and brought her hands to his chest again; let them trail his body to his sides. He squirmed under her touch. She froze as his legs kicked out uncontrollably.

"Eh! No tickling."

Her smile turned playful, almost sinister. As her palms ran his body, her fingernails pressed into t-shirt. Again he kicked out.

"Oh come on!" he squeaked. "It's not fair."

She paused, looked up at him slowly. "What are you going to do about it?"

He lashed out with fingers moving quickly over her body. She erupted into a fit of giggles and drew her legs up to protect herself.

His hands reached up, grabbed her wrists, and drew them away from her body. They stared at one another, their breath heavy. He turned her onto her back, raised her arms above her head. His sights trailed her body; watched as her chest heaved with each breath.

He leaned down, hovered above her, rested inches from her lips, and waited for her to make the next move.

She reached up to him, filling the gap, and pressed her lips against his. He returned, let his tongue slide into her mouth; found her warm and hungry.

His hand released her wrist, trailed down her arm, down her side to find the hem of her shirt. Her breathing increased as his fingertips found her bare skin. She pulled from his kiss as his palm rested flat against her.

He froze and groaned as he removed his hands from her body. "Ah, shit. I'm sorry darling." He pulled away and leaned to rest against the couch.

"What?" she asked, lifting herself to meet him. "No, it's all right."

She kissed him gently but found his lips silent.

"It's okay," she urged and ran her hands down his arms which refused to hold her.

"But it's not all right. I'm a mess, Gill."

"You're not."

"I am." He smiled, brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm no good for you."

"Will you let me be the judge of that?"

"No."

Gillian sighed. "Just lie down with me, Cal." She pushed lightly against his shoulder as she lay back.

He refused to move and looked down at her with sadness in his eyes.

Frustration grew thick within her and she sighed again. "Cal, come here and hold me, dammit."

He smiled warmly. "Yes, ma'am."

He moved slowly and his hands found her again as she turned to rest in his arms. "I won't break, Cal."

After a few moments of shared silence, as his breathing relaxed and her arms wrapped around him, Gillian looked up at him and squinted in the dim lighting. "I never want to hear those words out of your mouth again."

"What? 'No tickling'?"

"Cal..." she trailed on.

He smiled, leaned down, found her lips and kissed her gently. "Never. I'll never say 'em."

"Good."

She turned back into him, wrapped herself tighter, and pressed her forehead to his chest.

After a few more moments of silence, with his eyes closed and Gillian treading closer to the beginning of deep sleep, Cal opened his mouth again.

"Gill?"

"Hmmm?"

"Does this mean the tickling is back on?"


End file.
